


Thursdays With Angel

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike's parents set him up with some special tutoring for the SAT</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays With Angel

Spike had spent the day watching the clock, and when the final bell rang, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the door, eager to get to his car and get home. It was Thursday, which meant college prep tutoring... which meant Angel.

His parents had hired the older boy last year to help bring his SAT scores up, and after the test came back with better than expected results, it was decided that Angel would continue to tutor him to make sure he was as ready as he could be for college next year. He looked over Spike's term papers before they were turned in, made suggestions for reading that would be helpful, and reviewed some of the notes from his classes with him as well, and while he appreciated the help, Thursdays weren't Spike's favorite day because of philosophical discussions or calculus equations.

He looked forward to Thursdays because Angel was, quite simply, the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. Whoever had coined the phrase, 'tall, dark and handsome' must have had Angel in mind, although Spike was sure that nobody could ever have imagined his eyes. They were gorgeous - deep and dark, and he swore they sometimes changed color, from a lighter color that was like melted chocolate to a polished ebony that tempted Spike to just dive in and go for a midnight swim. And if those weren't enough, he had a face that looked like it had been carved from granite or some other unyielding stone, all lines and angles that both beckoned the onlooker closer and at the same time, warned them from getting too near.

If Angel had been some random guy he'd bumped into at a club or anybody other than who he was, Spike would've made a play for him long ago. But there was something sweet and almost innocent about the older boy, like he was somehow untouched by the world and the people around him. An angel indeed, but not one of the fluffy ones on the clouds, all long hair and dresses, but a warrior angel, ready to protect what was his and avenge any wrongdoing. Spike knew instinctively that he never wanted the wrath he sensed deep down to spill over at him - he only wanted his laughing angel, the one that teased him about his punk looks and bleached hair, and occasionally even reached over to poke him when he got a little too cheeky.

What it all came down to, really, was that he _liked_ Angel. Spike didn't like too many people, so he wasn't about to risk one of the few friends he had just to get his end away. Especially when he could do that anywhere, with just about anybody - he'd found that out quick enough after his first visit to a gay club when he was sixteen. Sex was easily come by and just as easily let go, and he wasn't about to lose his friendship with Angel over it. Not to mention, Angel was about as straight as they came. So he confined his desire to fantasies, and if he spent an extra hour or so locked in his bathroom after Angel left each Thursdays, nobody ever had to know.

Christ, now he was hard just thinking about it! Doing his best to forget about what happened after tutoring, Spike pulled into the driveway, grabbed his backpack, and headed inside. If he was quick about it, there might be time for a little tension relief before Angel arrived - another little Thursday ritual. He hadn't seen the older boy's car outside, so when he walked into his bedroom and found him at the desk, he stopped dead in surprise. “Angel?”

“Hey. Hope you don't mind starting a little early today,” Angel told him. “My car's in the shop and I had to get a ride from my girlfriend, and she had to drop me off on her way to work.”

“Uh, sure, no problem,” Spike replied, silently giving thanks to the gods of black jeans and oversize backpacks. “Just lemme, uh -” He jerked his head towards then bathroom, then escaped into it without giving Angel a chance to say anything.

Once inside, he turned the faucet on, then unfastened his jeans and reached inside. He wasn't about to risk Angel overhearing anything, so he'd just have to wait and hope he didn't bust something during the tutoring session. He shifted his cock, then gave it a quick squeeze and did his jeans up and stepped back to check himself in the mirror. No obvious bulge, no visible dick straining against material, no clear sign that screamed out that he wanted to jump Angel's bones, so he was good. With a nod of satisfaction, Spike flushed the toilet he was supposed to have been using, washed his hands, then went back into his bedroom.

The next hour was spent reviewing for his econ test next week, then going over Angel's history and philosophy notes from his classes yesterday. Spike already knew he couldn't wait to get to college, although he couldn't understand why Angel was bothering with philosophy when he was studying criminal law. Not like there was a lot of philosophical debate about putting bad guys in jail, was there? But Angel seemed interested, so Spike listened and did his best to follow the topics instead of thinking about leaning over and nuzzling his tutor's neck like he really wanted.

“So you see, the concepts of reality are really different, depending on who you're reading,” Angel explained. He loved philosophy, and it showed in the way his eyes shone when he talked about it. “For instance, there was a whole school of thought that said that nothing but our own selves are real. Can you imagine that?”

“Uh-huh,” Spike muttered, twirling his pencil around his fingers as he fought to keep from reaching out to see if the spiked brown hair was softer than it looked. Angel nudged him and the pencil clattered onto the desk, then slipped down to the floor.

Angel shot him a guilty look. “Sorry,” he said. Spike shrugged, and leaned down to pick up the pencil as Angel bent to do the same thing. They collided too late to pull back, just at the right angle that their lips met, crashing together in a surprisingly soft kiss. When Angel didn't pull back and hit him, Spike moved a little closer, opening his mouth enough to let his tongue slide out to brush the other boy's lips. They parted on a surprised breath, and he slipped inside for a fraction of a second, barely long enough to register before he retreated and pulled away to breathe.

Angel looked at him with wide, dark eyes. “Why did you -?”

“Wanted to,” Spike replied with a shrug. “Why not?”

“But I'm - I mean, I'm not -” he hesitated, looking adorably discomfited before he blurted out, “I have a girlfriend!”

Spike cocked his head to the side. “You kiss her like that?”

“Yeah.” Angel frowned at the smirk that crossed the blond's face. “Why?”

“Nothin'.” Spike shook his head and turned back to the textbook. “So we were on the start of solipsism, yeah?”

“No.”

“We weren't?”

“We were, but... what do you mean, 'nothing'? Why'd you ask me that?” He crossed his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but just as obviously determined to find out what was going on.

Spike shrugged again. “Just that those kinda kisses... they're not exactly the type to stir the blood, y'know? Won't keep you up at night tossin' an' turnin'.”

Angel glowered at him. “And you'd know what kind do?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine, then - prove it. Show me.” Spike knew he was probably just goading him, prodding him to see what he'd do, but he wasn't about to turn down an invitation like that! The pencil clattered down onto the desk again, and Spike reached over to slam the philosophy book closed, making sure his shoulder brushed Angel's chest with the movement. He was probably suicidal, but he couldn't help himself, not when Angel taunted him like that.

Spike shoved his chair back and grabbed Angel's hand, tugging him up along with him, then pulled him away from the desk. He pushed him backwards until he stopped against the closet door, then stepped forward, pinning him between hard oak and Spike, and before he could forget that this was all supposed to be him calling Angel's bluff, he put his hand up to curve around Angel's neck, pulling him down to meet him.

This kiss was nothing like the sweet, tender exploration before. Heat sizzled along their lips, shooting down from mouths to groin, and Spike felt Angel harden against him. This time when his tongue slid over Angel's lips, it was welcomed inside, and soon Angel's tongue was tangling with his, rubbing over each other, sleek and hot, and Spike thought he heard Angel moan, but he wasn't about to end the kiss to find out. Hands slid up his back, pulling him closer as he let go of Angel's neck, one hand sliding over his bicep, the other worming its way between them, skating up the broad chest until it settled just over his heart. And when Spike's fingers feathered over his nipple, coaxing it to a peak, this time he was sure about the sound Angel made.

“Spike,” Angel ground out, but Spike didn't give him a chance to call a halt. He attacked his mouth with biting kisses and soft sucking, fingers plucking at the tight bead of his nipple. Two years of wandering around the gay clubs was brought to bear as he used everything he knew to show Angel exactly what he'd been talking about. Sweet, gentle kisses might be all right for the bints, but there were times a man wanted more, when he just needed to fuck and suck and -

A hard shove sent him stumbling backwards, and it was like being torn out of heaven. Spike shot him a wounded look. “If you wanted to stop, you could've just -” He never got to finish his sentence, the rest of it cut off by Angel's mouth. Fingers slid into his hair, holding him still as Angel ravished his mouth, tongue delving inside, thrusting against his own, retreating and returning in a rhythm that made his cock throb in his jeans. A pulse of precome escaped and this time, it was Spike who pulled away, gasping for air.

“Jesus, Angel!” But he wasn't done yet. Those massive hands slid down Spike's back to cup his ass, and he moaned, turning his head to muffle the sound in the other boy's neck. Angel shivered, and Spike smirked, then attacked his neck, teeth and tongue working over gorgeous golden skin. Then they were falling, sinking to the floor just a few feet from his bed, but he didn't dare suggest they move, not if it would mean Angel would stop moaning and squeezing his ass.

His head spun, dizzy with need and lust, and Angel seemed to recognize his state, because he kissed him again, pushing him back down onto the carpet. Spike went willingly, groaning when Angel followed him down and he felt his full weight pressing on him. There was no time to savor it though, not with the older boy's hips already thrusting, working his hard dick along Spike's, rubbing over him through their jeans. Somewhere along the way, Spike had lost control and now all he could do was hold on and hope Angel didn't come to his senses for a little while yet.

Thankfully, Angel seemed nearly as lost in sensation as he was, because the bruising kisses didn't stop, and he drove his hips hard against Spike's. They were both leaking now, jeans growing damp as they grew closer and closer to the point of no return, but Spike couldn't be bothered to care about that now. Not when Angel groaned and reached down to adjust first himself and then Spike for better contact, before planting his hands on either side of Spike's head. “Tell me you want it,” he whispered hoarsely, staring down into Spike's eyes.

“Fuck, yeah,” he panted, bucking up against him. His cock was aching, harder than he could ever remember being, and he was about two strokes from coming. Apparently Angel was in the same state, because as soon as the words were out of Spike's mouth, the older boy thrust hard against him, driving his hips against Spike's. Spike squirmed under him, hands grabbing hold of Angel's hips, holding tightly as he fucked him right through their jeans.

It felt like hours, but he knew it only had to be a few minutes before he couldn't hold back any longer. Spike grabbed Angel and pulled him down, his shout of release muffled in his tutor's mouth as he came harder than he had in years. Angel groaned when he realized what was happening, and started to hump against him faster until he froze, then shuddered in a very familiar way. Spike thrust up against him, trying to feel it as he shot, cursing the thick material between them that kept him from sharing in his orgasm. He could feel the fresh wetness, though, feel it soak through to mingle with his own fluids.

Angel didn't make a move to get up right away, but he didn't say anything either. The quiet stretched out into several minutes, and Spike started to wonder if he'd just royally fucked up by making a move on the older boy like that. Was this the part where Angel got up and kicked his ass? Or was he trying to figure out how to tell Spike exactly what kind of twisted pervert he thought he was, right before he walked out and refused to have anything to do with him ever again?

His stomach was twisting itself into tighter and tighter knots with each new imagined scenario, and still Angel said nothing. Spike wanted to shake him and demand that he yell, or hit him, or do something, anything that would break the silence that felt like it was crushing him, when Angel pulled back a little and looked down at him, mouth curving up in a half smile. “Guess you do know a thing or two about those kinds of kisses,” he said quietly.

Relief swept over him, and Spike couldn't hold back the big grin that broke free. “Maybe I was wrong about you not knowin' how to stir the blood, too,” he teased. “Of course, you could always show me again...”

“Christ, you really are an incorrigible brat,” Angel laughed, but he took the hint and kissed him anyways. Spike had a feeling that Thursday was going to stay his favorite day for a long, long time.


End file.
